Forever Alone
by Asmith137
Summary: She had no one, they were dead. The only people that ever really cared for her were gone. They were her friends, her family. Now they were dead. What was the point in living anymore? That was the question she wasn't sure she wanted an answer to. Humanized, won't effect my other stories.


She was alone.

"I should've been there. I should've shared their fate…"

A tiny frame of a girl stumbled down the damp sidewalks of New York. Rain came down in light sprinkles, coating her thin black hair in the water droplets. The smell of the wet blacktop from the streets was unappealing and made the teenager inwardly cringe at the foul smell. The honks and bright lights of the city and vehicles weren't welcome to her senses tonight. She closed her eyes and attempted to block out the noise with her hands, forcing her gaze on her muddy shoes. She didn't want to be around other people or anything that would remind her of her loss. The rain was making it hard. Her mother figure always did love rain…but she was gone.

She was alone.

"They're never coming back," she breathed in a strangled whisper and slowly shook her head with clenched shut eyes. She ignored the rude shoves she got from passerbies because she wouldn't walk fast enough or that she got in their way and continued on slowly. She murmured mournfully, "They're dead…"

Her problems were insignificant to everyone else around her, just a small dot like she was in this crowd. Dismissed, thrown to the side because they only cared about themselves. She was like an ant that they could step on and not have another thought about. She wasn't even spared a glance, all the attention just being pushes and shoves to get through. They all had their own issues and they made it quite obvious that it was all that they cared about. No one gave a hoot about the crying girl walking down the sidewalk.

The rain was something she had always symbolized as peace and life...but now it symbolized regret and despair. What was life when her closest friends have passed away? What was the point of it? Nothing at all. It was pointless and dull, not at all worth staying around for.

Her feet tried to carry her home but the tragic accident that happened not more than three hours ago made her sluggish. It was agonizingly slow, especially to everyone else around her. Still, she continued through the rain that had lightened up from the earlier storm and made gradual progress to her neighborhood.

Everything was a blur on what happened next but she found herself in front of a familiar two story house. Shakily, she went up the creaky wooden steps. The neighboring homes had their lights on, signaling that they were still awake. The city that never sleeps. What both angered and despaired the girl further was that she could hear laughter from one house next to hers in-particular. She longed and wished for that to be her and her closest friends, laughing and enjoying each other's company in their warm home.

But she was alone.

She stopped at the door, looking down at the welcome mat she had insisted on having. To anyone, it was nothing special but a brown, dirty mat. However, to her, it was very special and treasured. Their names were embroidered into it but the mat also had stitched up pictures of their favorite things. Something to occupy space and make it colorful, she had said years ago. Stitched into the middle in cursive was the word 'Welcome!' which took up the majority of space on the mat. It wasn't customized, they had made it themselves, but it was sloppy work…but it reminded her of them.

Finally, she broke down and started to sob and convulse on the spot. Her violent sobs must've been heard throughout the neighborhood but no one came to comfort her. Tears streamed from her eyes and snot from her nose. Her damp sleeve ran across her face to get rid of the mess as she continued to cry but it only ended up making it worse, smearing it over her cheeks.

Her chapped pink lips coughed out air as the loss of her friends, no, her family, finally sunk in. The noise was muffled as she clamped her hand over her mouth. She would never see them again and it wasn't just because their bodies had burned away at the crash site. They would never greet her in the morning again or tell her to go to bed because it was too late to be watching her Lunacorn recordings and, granted, they did pull pranks on one another from time to time but even that she would miss.

She was alone.

The only thing she could think to do was to cry her heart out. A strangled noise came from the back of her throat before she sputtered on air, resisting the urge to wail. Her forehead pressed against the dull wooden door along with the palms of her hands as she tried to support herself or else she would've fallen over. The sounds she made gave the impression of a suffering animal. It was a heartbreaking noise but here, in New York; people have grown cold and bitter and found it aggravating, so she tried to keep the noise level down.

Once she had composed herself, she rummaged weakly into her soaked pants and pulled out a familiar key, one of four. The other three were missing...or had been melted, maybe had even exploded, at the crash. This was the only key of the house now. That thought hit her pretty hard. Shakily, she tried to insert it into the keyhole but the salty liquid in her eyes were blinding her version. She sniffed and used the palm of her hand to wipe her tears away. Eventually, she managed to get the door open and weakly forced herself in, closing it afterwards.

She didn't even bother with locking it. If someone came in to steal something it wouldn't matter to her. There was nothing left to steal anyway. She lost virtually all of her will to live. The only thing keeping her going was the natural instinct to survive but, otherwise, she might as well be dead. They had been her life but now they were gone.

She was alone.

An empty shell in the form of a girl.

Her dull footsteps echoed in the house, only resonating the feeling of loneliness in the two-story building. Everything looked so dull now, like it had no place in her world. It was just an empty home and herself. Every step was slow and short, the same pace she had been using the whole time. Her eyes were wide, like she had seen a ghost, as she walked down the hallway towards the kitchen. Occasionally, she sent glances around, in burned out hope that something would cheer her up. But then, she stopped at the doorway to the living room.

For a second, just a simple second, she thought she saw them.

Her head slowly craned over with a glint of hope in her eyes. Was everything, perhaps, all a dream, some harsh allusion? Maybe the plane had never crashed or maybe they had escaped with parachutes in time and were home, waiting for her.

She saw their shapes in the room and grinned, with her teal colored eyes lighting up with their familiar brightness.

Her motherly figure, Amber, was sitting in a chair at their small, square table and threw a wave her way. She waved back happily. The tallest of all of them, her name being Flora, was writing something down on a clipboard, glancing up and smiling at her before looking back down at her papers. Finally, there was the dancing figure of the messy black haired women, dubbed Madison, as she did pointless dancing maneuvers to a silent beat only she got. Madison had a grin caste down upon her when she passed and put her hand out to lightly shove Sara, like she always did when she came home from High School.

But she felt nothing when Madison did. It was like a ghost punch. She felt nothing.

Her hopeful smile fell. No. They weren't real. It was a stupid fantasy. They were dead…but yet…she felt drawn to them and found herself taking steps toward them. She tried to absorb their nonexistent presence and greedily indulged herself in their smiles as she came closer. When she did, their shapes faded and died, disappearing like a puff of smoke.

Tears silently started trailing down her cheeks again. Was she going insane? The thought didn't disturb her as much as it would have three hours ago. She aimlessly stumbled to the bathroom, turned on the sink and cupped her hands full of water before splashing it onto her face. It was cold, just like how her soul felt.

The feeling reminded her of the time when Madison had splashed a load of sea water into her face on their last vacation in the summer…but less eye burning. It was a nice memory…it killed her insides. She didn't want to think about them but the memories forced their way through painfully. However, she refused to cry for what she longed for. Instead, she looked at the mirror, gazing at what a mess she was.

Her originally pale skin was ghastly white. Her chin-length black hair looked matted and stringy, even when it was drenched and clinging against her face it was noticeably unkempt. Her soaked clothes made her look thinner and more pathetic then she really was. What ever happened to that healthy and perky young girl that existed three hours ago? The answer was rather simple. It died with her friends.

She was alone.

As she continued to stare, she found herself crawling further into her pit of emotional agony. Her teal eyes were a pool of despair, one she found herself swimming endlessly in. The eyes of innocence were no more. In its place was negative energy of all kinds of depraved emotion she hadn't felt in years. Those wide-eyes stared back at her, her pupils being an abyss that sucked the living feeling from her. Her skin was just _so_ white...it was like she was a living skeleton. She sure did fit the look.

In fact, as she continued to stare, that's what she saw, a skeleton. The mirror reflected everything she felt. Deep, spiraling pools of dark shady colors swirled around her in endless movements and depth, showing no sign of stopping. Those despairing colors revealed her dark thoughts of death, betrayal, sadness, regret, revenge and despair. Distant fire mirrored her undirected anger towards everything she believed was at fault. The storm, the plane, the lightning and that stupid god damn pilot!

"Why'd they have to die?" she whimpered and bit her lip to avoid getting angry. Acceptance wasn't at all what she was going through. She simply acknowledged that no one had seen it coming, yet this didn't help her feel better at all. "They didn't deserve it," she rambled in a whisper and slowly shook her head. She keened and cupped her face in her fragile hands. "They were good people," she said through her hands, though it came out muffled and unintelligible. "Why them?"

_'It should've been you,'_ a voice hissed into her ear, making her shiver at the cold feeling. _'They had something to live for but what about you? Nothing,_' was a sharp answer that cut her and sent her further into her abysmal depression.

Her fists curled up and tears welled from her eyes, no matter how hard she squeezed them shut. Her teeth were clenched so tight that it hurt, but she didn't care.

_'You're alone...'_

"Shut up!"

_'You're alone.'_

Her hands ran upwards and pulled at her hair, feverishly trying to pull it out and clamp out those booming thoughts. "LEAVE ME ALONE!" she hollered to the ceiling.

The voice got louder till it was booming. _'You're alone_!'

Blinded by emotion, she looked around and tried to find the source till her eyes rested on the mirror. Her breathing picked up in speed and came out ragged. Again the skeleton seemed to mouth those words, _'You're alone.'_

"GO AWAY!" She picked up a hairbrush and threw it with all the strength she could muster at the reflective surface. The glass cracked, breaking the image, and shattered, sending pieces of glass to the floor. This didn't stop her agony and hot tears sprung for her eyes. She collapsed onto her knees and tried to hold onto the counter in a vain attempt to hold onto sanity.

"Just shoot me!" she screamed and fell onto her back with vulnerability unlike any other. She ignored the glass that dug into her back with a sting and continued her wailing of mercy. "Kill me already!" she shrieked. Her screams were not ones of anger but of sorrow and pleading hope of sanctuary. She had bittersweet hope that someone would strike down a fatal blow and end her suffering, just because she was too afraid to do it herself. Afraid...because her friends would haunt her for something they never wanted her to do. When was the last time they told her to never think of such a thing ever again? Was it three, no, four years ago?

Her screams of death got louder, her body grew weaker. Eventually, she was a crumpled heap on the floor in an emotional torrent that smacked against her in a relentless stir of agony that she would physically flinch from. The depth of her mental pain attacked her in ways no one would understand. Physically, she had a bruise on her head and some glass in her back. Emotionally, she was clinging to a string of life with wounds that pooled with despair and regret. Emotion was the harsher adversary, vexing her yet again.

Her heart throbbed in her chest, causing her to whimper. Her legs and arms were weak and unable to support her weight, so she continued to lie down. She felt like she had been shot and was surprised she felt no wound or saw no blood. She tried to pick herself up but collapsed back onto the bathroom floor like a ragdoll, fitting the sight with her ghastly appearance. Every breath scratched against her raw throat painfully and she was just so tempted to stop breathing all together.

_No…be strong._

Over time, her breathing calmed down and came out as low, shallow gasps. She was wheezing with tears running down her face as she continued to lie on the glass covered floor. She had given up on screaming but was still crying at her emotional wounds as well as her physical ones. Calmness had yet to sweep over her but she was getting better.

The worst of her pain was over...but it wasn't gone.

She found herself in her bedroom, flat on her bed as she stared to the side at her yellow painted wall. When and how she got there, she wasn't sure of. Her eyes slowly crept up to a picture on her nightstand. What would have once brought warmth and comfort just brought pain to her already aching heart. She felt empty inside, like life had no meaning.

Yet, she still reached out and grabbed the picture frame. She shifted her position so she's lying on her side and holds the picture tenderly in her small hands. It's the four of them…her family. The picture had been taken on their trip to Hawaii by Flora's accompanied friend Tupac, a very charismatic African.

Cautiously and slowly, her fingers trailed over the picture and her tears ceased. Her lips quivered, an action she had no control over. She found herself whispering their names as her fingers delicately traveled across their images.

"Flora," she breathed as her index finger trailed over the image of a tall, grinning Indian looking woman, who was her brilliant mentor and friend. "Madison…" she choked when she paused on the tough girl that was grinning deviously at the camera with a red and white baseball cap resting backwards on top of her head. "A-Amber," she stuttered when her hand came to a stop on a beautiful silver haired lady that was just about at her height, who was grinning at the camera with a raised eyebrow.

In front of the three was her own image, grinning widely with naivety as her friends held onto her in a heartwarming embrace in their hotel room. Her face held such a grin on the picture that it appeared like she was laughing at the camera as her friends hugged each other from different angles. They all seemed so relaxed and...happy.

For a long time, she stared blankly at the picture, without any movement of her muscles. If someone didn't know any better than they would have thought her to be dead. That might as well have been the truth. It seemed just so long ago when they had died but, in reality, it had only been less than three hours.

If that plane hadn't gotten hit by lightning then it wouldn't have crashed and they'd still be alive. That was, sadly, the truth of it. She got there on her own two feet when she heard the news. The wreck was on fire and there was no chance they could have survived if they had stayed inside. They had, so they were gone.

She was alone.

Part of her felt like dying right there. They were the only reason why she would want to be alive. Without them, it leaves a great hole in her soul, making her existence seem pointless and pitiful. She lived without them once…but she was a mess before then. They took her in…she recovered with their help.

Just when she thought her crying had ended, she convulsed. A rising sob shook her body despite how much she resisted. She forced herself not to cry though. They would have wanted her to be strong. That gave her little strength and comfort. Her eyes were rimmed red from crying and her throat felt scratchy but she refused to cry anymore and fought back her tears. However, there were so many reasons why she wanted to cry right then.

Amber had been like a mother, though yes she did have an awful temper, but the way she was so tender when she checked on her when she was sleeping was so uncharacteristically sweet. There were times when she did wonder if Amber cared for her but eventually she figured out that Amber only did what she did to protect her friends, who she considered family. It justified her seemingly coldness but she was actually caring, if a bit subtle with it. Despite her questionable actions, she was still a guiding hand and filled with a type of wisdom that she would never understand. You either had to hate her or love her. She loved her because Amber had done so much for her.

Madison, despite their arguments and quarrels, had been like a big sister. She was the unspoken watcher for her since the day they met. If someone even laid a harming finger on her, Madison broke their bones and set them to the hospital, order or not. What was odd was that Madison was so protective of her yet she was the only that was allowed to harm her, in Madison's mind at least. Though, it was comforting to have a tough friend who would lay down her own life just to keep her own friends safe.

Flora was the best mentor she could have ever asked for and a great friend to match. Throughout the years, she had taught her virtually everything she knew and even helped her recuperate by showing her passion of flowers to her. Flora had been understanding and would listen to her problems calmly whenever and wherever. Advice wasn't her thing but she was a great person to confide too. In a way, even though Flora had a hard time understanding the concept of emotions, she was really good at seeing them on other people and evaluating it if she gave the time.

When her life felt dull, they were there to spice it up. They were the reason for her to keep going and she felt that she was the same thing to them. She was internally grateful to have ever met them. They saved her life…they saved her from herself. They were by far the most important people in her life. When she was in pain, they were usually there to deal with it as well because they always stuck together…except during that plane crash.

Now, she was alone.

It truly was despairing to know that the people that meant the most in her life were gone. They shared a home together, so there was always something going on. Now, she was alone and it was disturbingly quiet in the normally loud home. There was utter silence instead of the booming music she was used to hearing in Madison's room, or Flora's screams or yelps if she tripped up, or Amber's shouts of anger and embarrassment when someone provoked her. The reality of living alone drew her deeper into despair. Should she continue to stay here or should she live with her two cousins, the only remaining members of her family? Or maybe she could go live with Skipper, Kowalski, Private and Rico? Neither one of those options were appealing.

Oh, how she missed them.

A sudden thought struck her that made her sit up. Hastily she fumbled with her side table's drawer and, once opened, reached for an object inside. She pulled out a bronze, metal penguin. It had been a gift for her birthday...from her beloved friends. They knew her so well...she loved penguins just as much as the Lunacorns. A sigh passed through her cracked lips and she settled back onto her side, eyeing both the penguin and the picture for many minutes.

A single tear trailed down her cheek but, otherwise, she looked lifeless. Slowly, she pulled the picture to her chest and rolled up into a ball, trying to comfort herself. Her hand absently fingered the bronze metal penguin, often brushing her thumb against the beak. Just…what was she now? Deep down she knew, it had been booming inside her head since the disaster.

Her name was Sara and she was alone.


End file.
